


unexpected

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, not a particularly happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:20:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: Shion's one-night stand with the cute boy from his literature lecture leads to an unexpected pregnancy.Preview:When Nezumi gives Shion a hard copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, Shion kisses him for the first time since That Night. It’s his first time kissing Nezumi completely sober, but the kiss is a quick one and almost accidental, just a flush of lips and a gasp on Nezumi’s part, a sigh on Shion’s.Shion steps back quickly, embarrassed, and takes the book Nezumi still holds between them. “Thanks.” He is sheepish until he remembers the hormones, and then he is relieved to have something to blame the kiss on. He waves a hand randomly as he explains, “Sorry, it’s the hormones, you know – ”“It’s okay,” Nezumi says, slowly, like he’s deciding on the words just as he says them.“It – uh…” Shion can’t really think of what he wanted to say. He has questions but no way of asking them. He supposes, in a quick rationalization, that at the core of it he would like to know what Nezumi wants, but then, he doesn’t even know what he himself wants. Perhaps he should figure that out.





	unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote and posted this fic in March, 2014.
> 
> I'm reposting some of my old fics from the many accounts I previously deleted over the past few years, so if you're familiar with my fics and want to request that I repost a certain old fave, feel free to message me at my tumblr: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com or comment on this post: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com/post/160488980276/danielles-nezushifree-fics and I'll be happy to consider reposting it! For both my new readers and my old guys, hope you enjoy the fic!! :D

As he waits the allotted two minutes, Shion thinks about grey eyes. The probability that the chromosomal make-up that would illicit grey irises is dominant is near zero, or maybe it’s the same probability that just one dusky afternoon against a rain-soaked window could lead to pacing in a gas station bathroom, ignoring the smell that’s crusted in every inhale as resolutely as the mold leeching the tile floor, trying not to peek at the stick balancing on the edge of a grime-stained sink.

            When two minutes are up, Shion is not quite done pacing, and continues another minute more, and maybe another, just throw in a fifth, there’s no need to rush. He looks at the stick after five minutes seventeen seconds only because the smell of the two-by-four space is rather nauseating and possibly fatal when inhaled for any more time than that.

            He stops noticing the smell altogether at the parallel lines, but somehow he’s still vomiting in the sink a second later, fingers gripping the grime he’d been eyeing warily not a minute before. At some point, the plastic stick clatters to the mold-trimmed tile, but Shion does not hear it.

**

He stares at the grey for a moment and hopes it will calm him down; it doesn’t.

            “Shion, what is it? What?” Impatience fades into concern the way evening fades into night: a darkening of the face, shadows over pale skin, and Shion wants to shake his head, insist he only had a question about the literature assignment, but he’s figured it out, never mind.

            Never mind the speech Shion prepared and recited throughout the night, memorizing it because it was easier to think about the words and the shape they’d make on his tongue than the possible reactions to these words and what exactly these words meant and how these words would change his life.

            Never mind the stick from the gas station restroom that sits in a sealed plastic bag in Shion’s backpack because for some absurd reason it seemed like a good idea to bring it to class.

            Never mind the few minutes where Shion’s back had been flush against cool glass, and it almost seemed like he could feel the rain through the window hitting his naked skin, but droplets were only sweat and the dampness only stains left by the lips Shion drops his eyes to now; it’s easier to look at these lips than the shadowed grey.

            In his rehearsed speech, he did not blurt it out. There was a careful preamble. Nezumi was eased into the truth like a child is eased into the realization of Santa’s façade, but Nezumi isn’t a child and the current truth is even more earth-shattering than the reality of Christmas.

            “I’m pregnant,” Shion blurts, letting out a sharp exhale as if he is just as shocked to hear this truth from his own lips, as if he did not have seventeen hours and forty-three minutes of previous knowledge to prepare himself.

            He doesn’t know how Nezumi reacts because he cannot force himself to look away from the wall that stands beside them, something sturdy when all Shion feels is weak. He wants to brace against it before his legs give out.

            There is a thing growing inside of him. It is more than a thing, though at this stage it seems like less. But it will be a person, his person, his and Nezumi’s person, _their child._

            Shion would puke again, if he had not puked that morning, and again after his first class.

            “What do you want to do?”

            Nezumi says these words but is clearly asking a different question, the question Shion has refused to ask himself. It’s so easy to choose the wrong answer.

            It’s so hard to choose the right one.

            The thing is, Shion doesn’t know which is which. It’s like the right answer is under one cup and the wrong under another, and hands are switching the cups too quickly – he can’t decide, he has to decide, but he’s lost track of right and wrong and all he feels is dizzy and nauseous, always nauseous.

            “I don’t know.” The wall has no reaction to his quiet admission, so Shion peeks at Nezumi.

            Pale fingers create a stark contrast to the bangs they have weaved a fist through. Nezumi’s face is hidden by his wrist. He is so beautiful, Shion thinks, and then he thinks that this thought is what led them to the problem in the first place.

            If only he wasn’t so beautiful, there would not have been That Night, there would not be this moment.

            “It’s your decision, ultimately,” Nezumi says, into his wrist. His voice is muffled, like it had been against Shion’s neck, into his chest, along his hairline, between his lips. “ _Shit,_ it was just one night, really – ” he cuts himself off as if remembering Shion is still standing in front of him, has not yet removed himself so that Nezumi has a chance to converse with his wrist alone.

            Shion clenches his fists, then forces himself to relax. He remembers the stick in his backpack and his ridiculous plan to show Nezumi, as if he’d need some proof, when really the truth is so impossible there’s simply no way Nezumi would expect it as a lie. He had wished Nezumi would provide him with an answer, but instead Shion is confronted by another fact he had not wanted.

            He is alone. The thing inside him is Nezumi’s thing, but Nezumi could easily walk away. It’s supposed to be fifty-fifty, but it’s not, really.

            After all, Shion does not know much about this Nezumi. Other than one – he is beautiful, two – his kisses feel like the best parts of drowning, and three – there is no way his rare eye color could be responsible for a dominant trait.

            “Okay,” Shion says, because there’s nothing else to say.

            Still, it’s a lie. Nothing is okay.

            “I’ll – I’ll let you know when I decide…?” He’s peeking at Nezumi again; somehow without his knowing his eyes had slid back to the wall, and that’s no good, the wall is relatively unhelpful.

            “Yeah. Good, you should do that.” Nezumi nods, a jerk of a nod. He’s dropped his hand from his hair and his wrist from his expression, and Shion sees now that he has no expression at all, and his arm had been a mask for nothing.

            Shion nods back and turns and walks away because he has a class in twenty minutes, and being a pregnant college student is one thing, but being a pregnant college dropout is another thing altogether.

**

When Nezumi gives Shion a hard copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting,_ Shion kisses him for the first time since That Night. It’s his first time kissing Nezumi completely sober, but the kiss is a quick one and almost accidental, just a flush of lips and a gasp on Nezumi’s part, a sigh on Shion’s.

            Shion steps back quickly, embarrassed, and takes the book Nezumi still holds between them. “Thanks.” He is sheepish until he remembers the hormones, and then he is relieved to have something to blame the kiss on. He waves a hand randomly as he explains, “Sorry, it’s the hormones, you know – ”

            “It’s okay,” Nezumi says, slowly, like he’s deciding on the words just as he says them.

            “It – uh…” Shion can’t really think of what he wanted to say. He has questions but no way of asking them. He supposes, in a quick rationalization, that at the core of it he would like to know what Nezumi wants, but then, he doesn’t even know what he himself wants. Perhaps he should figure that out.

            Or perhaps not. Nezumi lifts a hand, and his fingers are inexplicably warm on Shion’s cheek. “It’s okay, right?” Nezumi asks, but he is already leaning in, and Shion can only mouth the word _Yes_ halfway before Nezumi’s lips are on his again.

            This time the kiss is not much longer lived than the previous, but it’s softer and less rushed and there’s _something_ to it, something Shion cannot comprehend at that moment because at that moment he cannot comprehend anything at all.

            Nezumi pulls away, his lips quirked in something that might be a half smile. “I’ll see you later. We should talk.”

            Shion nods as Nezumi turns and walks away. They should talk, which they haven’t done much since Shion told Nezumi he wanted it, he wanted this thing inside him, this thing that was his and Nezumi’s, if that was okay with Nezumi, and Nezumi had said, _Yes, it’s okay – Are you sure? I mean, we’re just – No, of course you’re sure, of course it’s okay._

            They should definitely talk, but maybe they should do some other things as well, Shion thinks, as he walks in the opposite direction feeling a strange twinge in his gut he decides he will blame on the thing growing inside him even though the thing is hardly a thing yet, after only four weeks.

**

Shion doesn’t have a roommate so they usually do it in his dorm, but Nezumi’s dorm is closer to the library, and that is where Shion spends most of his time – and after the parallel lines on a stick, where Nezumi spends most of his time – so often they aim for Nezumi’s dorm. Nezumi’s roommate is loud and jokey and picks fun at Shion’s hair and eyes and scar in the nicest of ways, in the only way that has ever made Shion laugh too.

            Shion likes Nezumi’s roommate, but he likes it more when Nezumi’s roommate is out, and Nezumi can pull him in the room as he kicks the door closed and already have his hands up Shion’s shirt two steps from the hallway.

            Nezumi is unsure at first, but Shion assures him sex can’t hurt the thing inside him that is five weeks old now, so that’s what they do. Sometimes making out is enough; sometimes it has to be enough, as Nezumi’s roommate barrels in and interrupts any further intentions.

            “Does he know?” Shion whispers into Nezumi’s ear, liking how Nezumi’s hair tickles his nose when he leans in this close. They are watching a movie on Nezumi’s bed as Nezumi’s roommate interrupts the dialogue to explain the plot they are missing because of these consistent interruptions.

            Nezumi nods, and Shion feels warm.

            He does not know what his relationship with Nezumi is, but the day before Nezumi asked him on their first date, and sometimes Nezumi will come meet him for lunch after his Bio lab. Despite only speaking to him for the first time two months before, Shion feels comfortable with his shoulder to Nezumi’s, whispering in his ear as they watch a movie in his dorm.

            He likes Nezumi, he decides. He likes that this thing inside him that is five weeks old – definitely a thing now and quickly developing into more than just at thing – is half Nezumi’s.

            Shion does not believe in fate, but he does believe in good things sometimes happening for no explainable reason.

            The warmth he felt only spreads as he is leaving for the night and notices on Nezumi’s desk his own copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ , stuffed to the brim with post-it notes when Shion knows for a probable fact Nezumi had never taken a note in class in his life.

**

“This is nice,” Shion admits.

            They are in his dorm where Nezumi has practically moved in. He has spent the last three nights there, at least, though he returned to his dorm once to get clothes and assure his roommate he is not dead.

            Nezumi, who is playing with Shion’s hair in that absent way he falls into whenever they lay beside each other, Shion has noticed, nods after a pause, his chin a soft moving pressure on the top of Shion’s head. “Yeah,” he breathes, quietly. The hand that is not in Shion’s hair is on Shion’s stomach, which has bloomed in the smallest of bumps.

            The thing is much more than a thing at six weeks, developing ears and a nose and a mouth and even intestines. It is a quarter of an inch long, but that does not stop a heartbeat of 100 to 160 beats per minute, or so it says in that week’s chapter.

            Shion is exhausted and sore, but he thinks he is happy, and he thinks this has a lot to do with the man whose fingers have stilled in his hair, signaling that he has fallen asleep beside Shion for a fourth night in a row.

**

Eight-week-old fetuses develop toes and fingers and have eyelids.

            Shion dreams of tiny fingers that feel wet and sticky and is awoken by fingers that are long and pale and persistent against his shoulder.

            “Shion, Shion, wake up. Something’s wrong.”

            Shion blinks slowly, smiles because Nezumi is next to him, but his smile freezes as his vision adjusts to the dark room and he is able to read the grey eyes he’s finally grown accustomed to.

            They are alarmed. They are frightened.

            “What – ?” But Shion doesn’t need to finish the question because he feels the answer. It is wet and sticky and between his legs.

            He rips the blanket off. Breath comes in gasps.

            “We need to go to the hospital.”

            “Nezumi – ”

            “Come on, Shion, you need to breathe, come on.”

            It feels as though every movement elicits the release of more blood. Nezumi coaxes him to wear sweats, but the thighs are soaked by the time the student health center has contacted the ambulance.

            Nezumi holds his hand, but it is not enough. His palm is wet and sticky too, and Shion wants to pull his hand away, but then Nezumi will have nothing to hold on to, and he looks so lost.

            The answer is so obvious it doesn’t hide this time, but the doctors still manage to take so long to locate it, and even longer to present it to Shion and Nezumi. Shion is in a hospital gown on a bed and has stopped bleeding. Nezumi sits next to his bed with both hands on his lap, which he stares down at.

            Shion thinks there was a time when he thought Nezumi was beautiful, but now he just looks tired.

            “You’ve had a miscarriage,” the doctor says. He had told them his name when they came in, but Shion doesn’t care to remember it.

            He doesn’t mean to cry, but he has pulled his knees to his chest and sobs into them, wishing he were quieter. Nezumi’s hand is on his arm, but then it’s not.

            When Shion finishes crying, they return to campus. At the door of Shion’s building, he turns.

            “Thanks for walking me back.” Shion’s voice is hollow, but there is a part of his body that is even hollower, a part that only hours ago was so full.

            Nezumi looks confused. “Of course – ”

            “You can go now. You’re off the hook. You didn’t want this baby and – ”

            “Shion – ”

            “We don’t have to pretend anymore,” Shion shouts. Well, he means to shout, but he expects it’s much quieter than that, much less dramatic. “We don’t even know each other. This was all – It wasn’t going to last.”

            Nezumi says nothing.

            He doesn’t argue.

            Shion looks at him a second longer, but he’s not really looking at him.

            He can’t really look at him.

            He enters his building, and Nezumi doesn’t follow. The blood on the thighs of his sweats has not yet dried, and cools his skin as he walks slowly back to his room that has acquired an assortment of Nezumi’s clothing along with his over the last few weeks.

**

They only have one class together – literature – and it’s a lecture. Easy to hide in.

            Still, Shion skips. He gets notes from a friend and goes to his professor’s office hours. His grades continue to be immaculate.

            In what would be the twelfth week – end of the first trimester – Shion runs into Nezumi’s roommate. He is full of questions and less laughter than usual, but Shion dodges the questions and makes a getaway in a crowd.

            It’s easier to forget when there are no reminders.

**

It’s raining, when he sees Nezumi again.

            Shion has been avoiding the library, taking refuge in a study hall closer to his dorm building. He is taking a break from studying, listening to the rain against the roof, when he sees the dark ponytail.

            Grey eyes meet his, and there is a quick flash of a smile on lips Shion has kissed with his back against a cool window, has kissed in Nezumi’s dorm, in his own bed, outside their classrooms, once in a restaurant bathroom.

            Shion looks away, feels nauseous, gets up and leaves without his books. The air is wet but somehow not refreshing, even as it drowns him.

            Nezumi’s kisses had felt like drowning – only the best parts of drowning, though. The submersion and the tranquility and the quiet coat of peace.

            Now, standing in the rain, Shion can only feel the worst parts of it, the parts where his lungs are desperate for oxygen, where his fingers claw at nothing, where he can’t escape.

            “Hey – Hey, Shion!”

            Shion doesn’t turn. He doesn’t have to because a few seconds later, Nezumi’s rain-stained expression is in front of him.

            “You’re avoiding me.”

            It is so obvious of a statement it is unnecessary to the point of ridiculousness.

            “No.”

            “Don’t be obtuse, you are. Shion – Look, even though… I want to be here for you. With you.”

            Nezumi doesn’t say these kinds of things, but the novelty of it is lost on Shion, who can only focus on avoiding those grey eyes.

            He feels like crying, and it hurts. It hurts so much, to hear this voice.

            “Don’t lie. Stop pretending, just – ”

            “I’m not pretending anything.”

            “Fine! Just leave me alone!” Shion opens his eyes to the sky. He wants the rain to blind him and make it easier.

            “Why? I’ll leave you alone, just give me a reason why.”

            Shion swallows, looks away from the sky because it has failed in blinding him, he can see just fine, he can see perfectly.

            “Because it hurts, to look at you.” _Because your eyes are grey, and I used to wonder – I knew it was impossible, but I still used to wonder – if that thing that was inside me that was half me half you might have grey eyes too._

            The pause is soaked by the rain. “Oh. Oh – Okay, I understand.”

            Nezumi walks away, and it’s not relief, but it doesn’t hurt anymore than anything else, and that’s got to be something.

 

THE END


End file.
